


Sweet Like Berries

by machinewithoutfeelings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Pre-Series, Smut, Softness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9430526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machinewithoutfeelings/pseuds/machinewithoutfeelings
Summary: Yuuri keeps getting distracted by Phichit's lips, and his apparent love of painting them.





	

Phichit is always very generous with his affection.

That’s something Yuuri has learned in the time he has been roommates and rinkmates with him. He will gush unapologetically when he is pleased or impressed, shower Yuuri with compliments, hug him tight when they part and cuddle into him when they watch television. It is just _Phichit_ , and it is nice, because Yuuri had been so worried about making friends when he moved to Detroit. He is normally so reserved and not good with people. Phichit doesn't make Yuuri meet him halfway, though. He rushed right to Yuuri almost immediately and just decided that they were tight friends, and for this, Yuuri is grateful. 

Balancing the bag of food in one arm, Yuuri fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door. “I brought dinner,” he calls out into the apartment, and feels a small thrum of excited anticipation in his chest. He’d gone out of his way to pick up food from the Thai place Phichit really likes, the one he says tastes like home, because he knows that his friend had had a difficult practice earlier and Yuuri had wanted to cheer him up. He goes to set the food on the counter between the kitchen and living area. Almost immediately he hears the sound of bare feet running on hardwood, then feels tight arms encircle his waist and squeeze.

“You’re so sweet, Yuuri!” There’s a smack of lips against Yuuri’s cheek, which he is used to, and then Phichit is digging through the bag, opening different boxes.

Yuuri turns to take off his coat, and when he does, he catches sight of his face for a moment in the hallway mirror. On his cheek, in the spot Phichit had laid a friendly kiss just a moment before, was a dark red press of lips. 

He turns back to his friend, who still inspecting the styrofoam boxes with a smile, and Yuuri takes notice of Phichit’s lips, stained a deep berry red. 

Oh.

Yuuri rubs at the imprint with the sleeve of his sweater. It comes off, but there is still a faint pink tint to his cheeks, on both sides.

  


Yuuri likes grocery shopping with his roommate. It’s better than doing it alone. Phichit makes almost everything fun. There are little recipe cards in a display near the front, and Phichit is fingering through them while Yuuri stands with the cart. 

“We should make this one!” Phichit says, holding up a card with a picture of some sort of wrapped pork chop on it. Neither of them were fantastic cooks when they first moved to Detroit, but they’ve both been taking turns, teaching themselves. Phichit is getting really good, Yuuri thinks. He nods to the suggestion, and Phichit pockets the card.

Near the end of the trip, they’re heading toward the self-checkout and Phichit suddenly takes hold of the front of the cart gently, swiveling it down a Health & Beauty aisle. He makes a little noise of pleasure when he stops in front of a display of makeup, all tagged with bright orange clearance stickers. “Just a minute,” he says softly, while inspecting a tube of something metallic and purple. Yuuri stands to the side, not completely understanding the hot feeling settling down in his stomach as he watches him pick up different colors. 

He settles on three- the purple one, a pale bubblegum pink, and another berry red, though this one looks slick and shiny. When they get home, Phichit disappears into his bedroom for awhile after they put away the groceries, and Yuuri starts to make dinner. When Phichit appears again, Yuuri can’t but notice that his lips look a little rough and used, like he had tried on all three lipsticks and rubbed them all off. Yuuri burns his wrist on the frying pan staring when he first sees him walk into the small kitchen looking like that. Phichit immediately runs the faucet to cold and jerks Yuuri’s wrist under the stream of water. He lets Phichit hold him with the soft tips of his fingers as the cold water soothes the burn, even though there’s really no reason for it. 

“Better?” Phichit asks, and Yuuri nods, feeling his cheeks heat up. He turns back to his pan and starts stirring with a spatula, still feeling the spots where Phichit’s fingers had pressed into his skin. Yuuri thinks that he might be in trouble. Later, when Phichit beams and praises Yuuri’s meal and wipes a single finger across the dish just to slide it between his lips and _suck_ the sauce from it, Yuuri knows that he is in trouble. 

 

  


On the day Yuuri comes home to find Phichit sprawled out of the floor of the living with a small mirror and a hatbox full of makeup, he can’t do anything but stare. His lips are that glossy berry, and he drags a fluffy brush over his cheeks, leaving behind a soft glow.

When he looks up, he blinks, and Yuuri cannot tell if it’s blush or a blush that has kissed his face with color.

“I thought you’d be home later,” Phichit says.

“Second class was cancelled.” Yuuri sets down his school bag, then sits down on the floor across from Phichit, who has come up into a sitting position of his own, hugging his knees. He looked over the box of colors, then back at Phichit, who was spinning the lip gloss in his hands around nervously. “It looks nice,” he murmurs, and there is Phichit’s beautiful smile that makes him feel so warm always.

“Do you want?” Phichit asks, and before he even gets an answer, Phichit is digging through the box. He finally pulls up a small, bullet-shaped lipstick. He removes the cap and reveals it to be a deep, matte maroon. “I’ve thought this would- you would look nice, in this color.”

Yuuri isn’t sure. He doesn’t have lips like Phichit- soft and plush and perfectly suited for any color. He closes his eyes, though, when Phichit leans over the hatbox. He feels the other boy place a hand over his to steady himself. Yuuri realizes that he’s shaking when he feels the first touch of the lipstick on his bottom lip, and Phichit moves his hand to Yuuri’s shoulder to stop the movement.

“Be still,” he whispers. 

Yuuri feels Phichit glide across the bottom, the move to the top, tracing over the bow of his lips and to the other edge. It feels so close, so intimate that Yuuri can almost feel warmth from the hands not even touching him. 

“Beautiful.”

Yuuri opens his eyes, and Phichit is holding up a mirror. Yuuri can feel his face grow hot. He looks _ridiculous_ , nothing like Phichit, who looks natural and elegant and sexy. A hand goes to his face to hide behind. “I look really dumb.”

“I don’t think so,” Phichit says, but he is already offering a makeup wipe, which Yuuri uses to erase the dark color from his lips. Phichit never wants Yuuri to feel uncomfortable. He’s so _good_ and sweet and yet there is something so seductive about him that made Yuuri-

“Do you want to try my color?” Phichit asks. “The one I’m wearing?”

“I don’t think so,” Yuuri says. “I can’t pull it off like you can.”

There is a moment of quiet.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says. “I’m asking, do you want to try the color I’m wearing on my lips?”

The implication is subtle, and Yuuri hopes that he hasn’t misunderstood it. “Oh. Oh, okay.”

He closes his eyes as if Phichit is going to apply makeup on him again. He feels the hand on top of his again, though this time fingers thread through his. Instead of the solid slide of lipstick, Yuuri feels Phichit’s lips against his, so light, sticky from the gloss. It even _tastes_ berry sweet, just like Yuuri would imagine when he didn’t realize he was imagining it. 

He gasps into the kiss, opening his mouth and letting himself taste inside of Phichit’s. He sucks lightly on his bottom lip, and Yuuri feels Phichit lick into his mouth. They kiss messy on the floor, desperate and unpracticed and just soaking in the joy of all of it. 

Why hadn’t they been doing this all this time? 

Phichit is pretty much on top of him when he begins rutting against Yuuri’s leg. Yuuri can feel the hard length of him against his thigh, and fuck, Yuuri realizes he is hard, too. Achingly so. Nothing to be embarrassed about, given the circumstances, but Yuuri has never had an erection while pressed up against another person, especially a person running their hands up and down him and coming dangerously close to skimming the outline of it in his pants.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, pulling away. The berry gloss is smeared messy past the outlines of his lips. It is maybe one of the sexiest things Yuuri has ever seen. He rests a hand on Yuuri’s hipbone, pushing up under his sweater and his tee. He lets another hand tease the button of Yuuri’s pants, but doesn’t go any further. “Yuuri, can I…?”

Yuuri doesn’t have any words, but he just nods frantically, yes, _get them off_. 

Phichit is quick with undoing Yuuri’s fly, and then he is reaching in, pulling Yuuri out from his briefs. Just feeling his hand around him is doing crazy things to Yuuri, who has never been touched by anyone but himself. Phichit gives his shaft one pump and fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ he is leaning down, opening those beautiful lips-

“Wait,” Yuuri says, and Phichit sits back up, releases Yuuri’s erection from his hands. Yuuri turns, hands scrambling through the hatbox until he finds that berry gloss. He unscrews the cap, and leans toward Phichit with the wand in hand. “When he were kissing...it got a little…” 

Slowly, he brushes the doe-foot over Phichit’s bottom and top lip, applying a fresh coat. Phichit smiles when Yuuri is done, takes the wand from his hand and screws the cap back on. He drops it in the box, then lays a hand on the bare skin of Yuuri’s stomach, where his clothes have ridden up. He lets it move down, capturing Yuuri’s length once again, then leans down and takes him all in at once.

Yuuri was _not_ prepared for the warm wetness of Phichit’s mouth, not at all. He bucks up and cries out, but Phichit just cups both sides of Yuuri’s hips in his palms and starts to move. It feels so _good,_ all heat and the pull of Phichit’s lips as he pulls up the shaft. Yuuri pants shift further down and he feels Phichit’s thumbs pressing bruises into the skin of his hips as he works him. Yuuri has to hold himself back to let Phichit set the pace, has to hold himself back from grabbing into his hair and fucking those beautiful lips until he comes deep down the back of his throat. It’s scary and exhilarting to Yuuri, all of these things he is feeling all at once, and Phichit comes up slowly, sucking on the head and wrapping a hand around the shaft. He moves it up and down once, twice, and Yuuri is squirming, crying out-

Phichit sits up, still pumping him with one hand while using the other pull up Yuuri’s shirt, just in time for him to come all over his stomach. Thin streaks shoot out, covering his belly in sticky white, and Yuuri feels _exhausted_ , overcome, tingling, amazing. He opens one eye just in time to see Phichit run a finger through where Yuuri has spent his self on his stomach. He moves it up to his debauched lips, making perfect eye contact with Yuuri, and _sucks_. He lets his mouth fall open and lets Yuuri watch his tongue curl around the finger as he swallows the taste of him.

They take a shower together, where Yuuri attempts jerking Phichit off, and Phichit cleans off all the lipgloss smears from Yuuri with a loofah and gentle care. They get ready to cuddle up together on the sofa in clean t-shirts and pajamas pants. Phichit brings up the Netflix queue while Yuuri preheats the oven for frozen pizza. 

“Come take a picture with me,” Phichit says, as Yuuri sets two plates down on the coffee table. He holds up his phone in selfie mode, and Yuuri flops down beside him. Phichit immediately slings an arm around him, pulls him close and lays a big kiss on his cheek. A few seconds later, the flash goes off. 

“Can I tag you in this?” Phichit asks, typing away on his phone.

“When do you not? Let me see it first, though. I don’t want to look stupid.”

Phichit grins at him, small but happy. He hands the phone over to Yuuri. Phichit’s smile is wider and brighter than Yuuri’s, but they both look happy, and comfortable. Phichit’s face is slightly tilted toward his still, nose barely brushing against Yuuri’s cheek. A cheek with an unmistakable red-pink imprint pressed upon it. It does something clenching and sweet to Yuuri’s heart.

“Post it,” Yuuri says, handing the phone back over. “We look good.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me at [machinewithoutfeelings](http://www.machinewithoutfeelings.tumblr.com)


End file.
